Well, here we are. Working for real pirates, on a real pirate ship. Hey, I've got a hurt leg. Maybe they'll cut it off and fix me up with one of those peg legs like in those old movies Dad used to watch. Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's life for me.....wonder if they have any rum?
Jack grinned slyly as he and the others boarded the giant ship docked in the harbor. He couldn't help but take a moment to relish the fruits of his labor. They had gone to the pirate bar last night with one thing in mind: getting on a ship and out of Milwaukee. The others had tried to negotiate their way onto a crew: the sniper with coin, and a few of the others with promises of hard labor in exchange for passage. None of them had gotten anywhere. Jack had been sitting back, contemplating the whisky in front of him, when he noticed their ticket to freedom. Her name was Emma. She had fiery red hair, bright blue eyes, and looked like she needed a friend. Within half an hour Jack had charmed her into granting them passage on her ship within Sullivan's Fleet, the same ship where Jack now stood reminiscing with a stupid smile and feeling a bit accomplished.
This is.....weird. I don't work as part of a team. I don't. Other people mess up. Other people double-cross you. Other people take a share of the haul. Much better to keep to myself.
I can barely steal enough to keep myself above water. I can't be having other people relying on me. I can't risk letting others down the same way I let Mom and Dad down. I've operated alone this long, I should be bidding these chumps farewell and finding my own way out of the city. I got them a way out of Milwaukee, I'd say that more than covers my debt to them for hauling my ass away from that prison. But....
Ah, fuck it. Don't deny it, Jackie. You're proud of yourself for helping these people. And it definitely feels good to have someone watching your back. Besides, you're no good in a fight, and these guys are more than capable of whooping some ass when the situation calls for it. Maybe they're not so bad.
Jack strolled over to a crate sitting against the outer wall of the ship's cabin. He shot a quick glance at the other members of his group as he hoisted himself up to sit, but none of them were paying him much mind. With a slight mental shrug, Jack leaned back against the wall and relaxed a bit, doing his best to put his nervousness behind him and enjoy the promise of a new beginning that the day would surely bring.
-----
Shit!
Row.
Row.
ROW.
FUCKING ROW JACKIE!
The sound of a bullet splintering the wooden hull of the boat spurred Jack to push himself. He didn't know how the fight was going topside, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out. As soon as the Waltzers had opened fire on the pirates on the docks, Jack had high-tailed it below deck with Jocelyn to row the ship out of the harbor and to safety. He positioned himself on an oar and winced as the wooden shaft resisted his efforts to budge it. Jack grunted and pulled as hard as he could but barely got the thing to budge a foot. Glancing around, he saw Ponch, nervous look in his eye, quickly working an oar forward, back, forward, back. Oh. Put my back into it. Right.
Jack began rowing again, holding his arms closer to his body and letting his back and shoulders do the work. The fishy stench that permeated the lakeside wafted into his nostrils as he inhaled deeply to fuel his labor. A slow burn, starting in his arms but radiating into his shoulders and back, made Jack grit his teeth as he continued tugging at the paddle.
THWOCK.
The blade of the oar collided with something outside the boat, sending deep vibrations up Jack's arms and back down his spine. Turning around, he noticed Jocelyn, looking confused and pushing an oar handle at a strange angle.
Is she....is she rowing the wrong way? Mother of....
"HEY."
"What?"
Jack held up a hand, index finger pointed upward, and twirled it in the air. "Other way."
Jocelyn glared at him with a strange mixture of anger, annoyance, and shame, before turning away and resuming her rowing, this time in the proper direction. Jack shook his head and turned back to his own oar. The rickety wooden hull of the boat creaked as their combined efforts began moving it away from the dock. The shouting, clanging of metal, and battery of gunshots all got gradually more distant as the schooner picked up speed. Jack could still hear the occasional gunshot up close, which he knew was the sniper finally getting to try out her brand new rifle. Jack wondered if she was smiling as she popped Waltzers in the chest.
Their time together in Milwaukee ended the same way it had begun: bloody, and on the run from Crawley.
Jack grinned slyly as he and the others boarded the giant ship docked in the harbor. He couldn't help but take a moment to relish the fruits of his labor. They had gone to the pirate bar last night with one thing in mind: getting on a ship and out of Milwaukee. The others had tried to negotiate their way onto a crew: the sniper with coin, and a few of the others with promises of hard labor in exchange for passage. None of them had gotten anywhere. Jack had been sitting back, contemplating the whisky in front of him, when he noticed their ticket to freedom. Her name was Emma. She had fiery red hair, bright blue eyes, and looked like she needed a friend. Within half an hour Jack had charmed her into granting them passage on her ship within Sullivan's Fleet, the same ship where Jack now stood reminiscing with a stupid smile and feeling a bit accomplished.
This is.....weird. I don't work as part of a team. I don't. Other people mess up. Other people double-cross you. Other people take a share of the haul. Much better to keep to myself.
I can barely steal enough to keep myself above water. I can't be having other people relying on me. I can't risk letting others down the same way I let Mom and Dad down. I've operated alone this long, I should be bidding these chumps farewell and finding my own way out of the city. I got them a way out of Milwaukee, I'd say that more than covers my debt to them for hauling my ass away from that prison. But....
Ah, fuck it. Don't deny it, Jackie. You're proud of yourself for helping these people. And it definitely feels good to have someone watching your back. Besides, you're no good in a fight, and these guys are more than capable of whooping some ass when the situation calls for it. Maybe they're not so bad.
Jack strolled over to a crate sitting against the outer wall of the ship's cabin. He shot a quick glance at the other members of his group as he hoisted himself up to sit, but none of them were paying him much mind. With a slight mental shrug, Jack leaned back against the wall and relaxed a bit, doing his best to put his nervousness behind him and enjoy the promise of a new beginning that the day would surely bring.
-----
Shit!
Row.
Row.
ROW.
FUCKING ROW JACKIE!
The sound of a bullet splintering the wooden hull of the boat spurred Jack to push himself. He didn't know how the fight was going topside, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out. As soon as the Waltzers had opened fire on the pirates on the docks, Jack had high-tailed it below deck with Jocelyn to row the ship out of the harbor and to safety. He positioned himself on an oar and winced as the wooden shaft resisted his efforts to budge it. Jack grunted and pulled as hard as he could but barely got the thing to budge a foot. Glancing around, he saw Ponch, nervous look in his eye, quickly working an oar forward, back, forward, back. Oh. Put my back into it. Right.
Jack began rowing again, holding his arms closer to his body and letting his back and shoulders do the work. The fishy stench that permeated the lakeside wafted into his nostrils as he inhaled deeply to fuel his labor. A slow burn, starting in his arms but radiating into his shoulders and back, made Jack grit his teeth as he continued tugging at the paddle.
THWOCK.
The blade of the oar collided with something outside the boat, sending deep vibrations up Jack's arms and back down his spine. Turning around, he noticed Jocelyn, looking confused and pushing an oar handle at a strange angle.
Is she....is she rowing the wrong way? Mother of....
"HEY."
"What?"
Jack held up a hand, index finger pointed upward, and twirled it in the air. "Other way."
Jocelyn glared at him with a strange mixture of anger, annoyance, and shame, before turning away and resuming her rowing, this time in the proper direction. Jack shook his head and turned back to his own oar. The rickety wooden hull of the boat creaked as their combined efforts began moving it away from the dock. The shouting, clanging of metal, and battery of gunshots all got gradually more distant as the schooner picked up speed. Jack could still hear the occasional gunshot up close, which he knew was the sniper finally getting to try out her brand new rifle. Jack wondered if she was smiling as she popped Waltzers in the chest.
Their time together in Milwaukee ended the same way it had begun: bloody, and on the run from Crawley.